


you're my sweetheart

by satellites (brella)



Category: Majo no Takkyuubin | Kiki's Delivery Service
Genre: F/M, First Love, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brella/pseuds/satellites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never thought he'd say it, but all those dumb romance books his cousin Tilly reads are right: Unrequited love stinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> For Lara.

The end of August comes slowly, an ambling trail of late sunsets and languid afternoons, skies bluer than any sea they could ever swim. Tombo buys ice cream cones on Saturdays and takes them to the bakery, sprinting so that they don't melt in his hands, and each time, he parades through the door and hands one to Kiki on her break. 

They sit on the cobblestoned sidewalk, licking desperately at the ice cream as it dribbles onto their hands, and they talk about the wind and the horizon and all the things they know will never end. 

Kiki likes blackberry. Tombo likes pistachio. They watch the sun go down and the red light catches in the ends of Kiki's dark hair like embers, and Tombo stares without remorse at the sight, at the way she doubles over and clutches her stomach when she laughs. 

He changes the conversation today. Kiki is sitting beside him in her new red sundress with the white polka dots that she'd sewn for herself when it had started getting hot; it ties at the nape of her neck and matches her bow and the skirt flares out over her milky knees. 

"So are you going to go to school in September?" he asks, feigning casualness as he finishes off the last of his waffle cone. He doesn't remember taking his shoes off, but he's barefoot. 

Kiki blinks over at him, looking taken aback. He pushes his glasses up.

"What, don't witches have school?" he inquires, tilting his head. "I mean – that is, did you ever—?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," she answers quietly, her gray eyes bemused. "Wow. Gosh. It is about time for school to be starting, isn't it?" 

Tombo nods and Kiki groans, dropping her head onto her raised knees.

"I'm such an idiot!" she deprecates, throwing her hands dramatically in the air. "That's what I get for starting a delivery service!"

"Hey, it's not too late!" he offers hastily. "You can register as a student up until the end of the first week. I can take you down to the school tomorrow myself, if you want! The principal's really nice; she's been here for ages—"

"Tombo, I don't want to put you to any trouble," she interjects with that bright smile that makes his insides inflate like a hot air balloon bound for heaven. "I'll ask Osono about what I need to do."

"It's no trouble!" he protests, and then, before he can stop himself, "It's never any trouble for you, Kiki." 

And he could punch himself right then, he really could, though he's fairly certain that his wimpy little knuckles wouldn't be able to handle the impact. He flushes deeply beneath his freckles and looks away, scratching at his already unkempt hair. 

"I mean, what are friends for, y'know?" he appends clumsily, slightly wincing. 

"Right," Kiki replies cheerfully and genuinely, and Tombo, while relieved at having avoided feelings-talk (or feelings-revelation, really), can't help but wilt just slightly at how easily she'd agreed with him. 

"Well, okay," she finally says, nudging him gently in the elbow. "You can give me the tour tomorrow, and we'll see." 

Tombo can't help his grin, finally turning to look at her again. Silly idea, really, because she looks absolutely lovely, her bow wavering in the breeze and her dimples catching the fading sunlight from the sea, her eyes holding the last of the summer glow with tenderness. 

He gulps, but shakes her hand (and he tells himself not to notice how right it feels in his). 

"At your service, Miss Witch," he pledges, his conviction well-concealed. 

Kiki giggles and then guffaws and it fills his heart with bubbles.

 

* * *

 

Kiki decides to attend school, in the end. She tells him that it's not very conventional for witches to split their training with other responsibilities, and that it's going to be difficult for her to juggle her delivery service with being in school for five hours every day, and that she's scared out of her mind about meeting new people her own age (because, she asserts, they probably won't all be as nice as he is), but that she's going to commit to it. She wants to challenge herself and learn why the stars are what they are, and she wants to grow and do her best, and she wants to do it all with him.

Tombo practically buzzes as the start of September grows closer. Kiki goes out with Ursula to buy new clothes, jeans and button-downs and headbands that she wears as nicely as she does her dresses. Tombo tries not to stare, tries to keep his eyes from widening, because he'd spent the entire summer seeing her in skirts and frocks and the sight of her in such contemporary clothes is as unexpected as it is pleasant. Her hair is just a little longer and she braids it on the first day, impossibly pristine, and he waits in front of the bakery with his satchel on his back and watches her say good-bye to Jiji. 

He steers his bicycle, the blue one without a propellor, along the streets to the school, and Kiki's arms wrap around his midriff and she leans into the turns with the same dexterity and intuitiveness that had kept them gliding on the highway two months ago. Her heart beats against his back and she throws her arms out and laughs, the wind pulling her hair out of the braid, and Tombo feels like flying isn't so hard after all.

 

* * *

 

He wants to kiss her so badly. It will be chaste and careful but more eloquent than he ever could be, and it will be under the stars, and it will be worth any pitfalls that come after it. 

He almost does, once. His family is having a garden party for the fourth of July and he finds Kiki standing in the gazebo, wearing the purple dress with the puff sleeves that Osono had bought her for the occasion. She is staring at the duskening sky with impossible fondness, her hands grasping the white wooden railing as though she is steering a ship homeward.

"Hi," he says, in his dress shirt and his pressed cotton shorts, the gel in his hair utterly ineffectual at taming the spikes at the front. 

She turns and beams at him, moonlight and mystery. 

"Hey," she greets him. "Get tired of entertaining the guests?" 

"Nah," he replies, and then, "Well, yeah." 

She giggles. "Show them the propellor you keep under your bed; I'm sure that'll win them over." 

His chest swells at the fact that she remembers the details of his room, the haphazardly tacked-up maps and blueprints, the gears and screws scattered over every surface, the compasses and the in-progress weather vane and, yes, the old propellor from the first prototype stuck under his bed.

"I don't have the best luck at winning people over," he laughs. "As you recall, our first impression wasn't exactly top-notch."

"I was embarrassed," she defends, and his shoulders slacken, because he'd never expected to hear an explanation for her abrasive demeanor when he'd first cycled up beside her. He turns to look at her with wide eyes – she gazes at the water, at the ships crawling by, her smile small and nostalgic, her dark hair curling in the wind. "I almost got arrested, after I was done almost getting run over. I'd just wanted things to go differently. I wanted people to think I was cool. The cool witch." 

"I did," he blathers before he can stop himself. "Kiki, I still think you're cool. You're the coolest  _girl_ I've ever met. You're amazing." 

He will never stop telling her these kinds of things, because the dull shine he sees in the back of her eyes when she starts to let herself think she's anything short of perfect makes his heart freeze over, and he cherishes the blush on her cheeks and the gratefulness in the corners of her lips when he compliments her. 

"I'm not," she mumbles back meekly, leaning on the railing. The hyacinth sways in the breeze. 

"You are!" he protests, leaning into her line of vision until she finally huffs and looks him in the eye with a weary smile. He pulls every ounce of earnestness into his voice until it holds the words up at their heavy, heavy hooks. "I mean it, Kiki. I know you think I'm a goof, but – you're my hero." 

Her smile slips away, but not into nothingness; she gazes at him with surprise, and gratitude, and humility and joy, and he slips his fingers between hers and tilts toward her, closes his eyes and she closes hers – and then the fireworks start.

No, they really, literally start, right over them. 

The noise makes him jump and Kiki laughs. The colors burst and fade amongst the stars and they ignite her eyes and her smile is just as dazzling as they are. She does not let go of his hand. He does not ever want her to.

 

* * *

 

The boys at school watch her with far more attention than Tombo can really have the stomach to witness. The first week or so had been nice but impossible, him being Kiki's only friend and guide in this brave new world of lockers and polished desks and chalkboards, pastries from the bakery at lunchtime under an oak tree beside the overgrown baseball field.

She talks with her girl friends from over the summer, of course, Hana and and Tori and Yuko, but Tombo talks with them, too, of course; they walk from class-to-class together and the girls titter about their birthday parties that Kiki absolutely must come to, all the boys that make them giggle, and Tombo is, eventually, forgotten in favor of gossip and heart-baring in the ladies' room, and the most popular fellow in the whole school is making eyes at Kiki.

Kiki hardly notices, rolling the cuffs of her jeans up over her ankles and striding down the hallways in her red flats with increasing confidence, her books clutched against her chest. Everyone recognizes her from her delivery service and she makes fast friends, which Tombo is perfectly fine with, until one day she jogs up to him at his locker just before lunch.

"Tombo!" she cries in greeting, her dimples deep with the grin on her face. "You'll never guess what happened. Guess!"  

He blinks, adjusts his glasses, and closes his locker.

"I can't even imagine," he replies blankly. "Um… you pulled a rabbit out of Ms. Sheridan's hat?" (Ms. Sheridan teaches reading and writing and makes her own bookmarks.) 

Kiki snorts. "No, you goof. That boy who sits at the front of our homeroom class, the one with the blue eyes and the sweater vests? He wants me to eat lunch with him today! Can you believe that?" 

Tombo's insides sort of wither. He blinks at her, silent and bewildered and horribly heartbroken. She watches him expectantly, but her eyebrows start to furrow after a moment at his unresponsiveness.

"To—?" she starts to prompt him, her smile fading, but he has already stuttered out something about stomach flu and needing to go home and then he's brushed past her, books still in hand, and left. 

He strides down the hallway past the masses and gets to the front door, shoves it open, walks blindly down the street, and a small voice in the back of his head is shrieking about skipping school like a truant and a delinquent and oh god in heaven his mother's going to have his head, but his eyes are wet and stinging and he comes to a conclusion. 

He never thought he'd say it, but all those dumb romance books his cousin Tilly reads are right: Unrequited love stinks.

 

* * *

 

And he could have been quicker, he thinks, sitting at the fountain in the park and wiping his nose every few seconds; he could have flown higher, and he could have been cooler, and he could have been braver, and he could have pecked her lips as the fireworks had drummed out color above them.

He would have had nightmares about the falling, had it not been for Kiki's rampantly beaming, tear-streaked face floating over his, had it not been for her hand grasping his wrist. He would have been sleepless and scared, but the sinister moments had always turned to Kiki holding him, embracing him with every ounce of strength in her once the cameras had faded away. 

He wipes his nose again, but the wetness is already dribbling down into his lap from his eyes and his glasses are fogging up and he hasn't the faintest idea why it matters so much to him. 

 

* * *

 

"You're  _such_  an  _idiot_ , you know that?!" Kiki yells, pacing her attic room and throwing her arms out. "Do you?! Do you know how much of a  _numbskull_  you are, Tombo Kopori?"

"I have some idea," he squeaks back. He hasn't seen her in three days, not since the Friday that he'd absquatulated from his education, and now it is Monday afternoon and he has come to the bakery to ask for the homework he may have missed and he is fairly certain that Kiki is prepared to turn him into a frog. 

She halts, and the skirt she's wearing swings just slightly forward with the abruptness.

She whirls on him, and her eyes have the same bristling flare that they'd held when he'd first introduced himself ("Thank you for getting me out of trouble but I really shouldn't be talking to you and you wanna know why it's very rude to talk to a girl before you've been introduced and before you know her name  _hmph_!"). He gulps. Jiji tsks from his spot on the bed, resting his head on his paws. The kittens must be out with Delilah.  

Tombo grins sheepishly at her, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"No you don't," she finally barks, striding forward and prodding at his chest. "Tombo Kopori, you are the biggest blockhead I have ever met, and you're a moron and a twerp and I can't believe how much of an idiot you are! How can a boy who's such a genius be so dumb?!" 

"Now that's just unfair," he defends feebly. "I'm many things, Kiki, but I'm not a twerp." 

She huffs the same way a dragon blows fire out its nostrils. He can't help but balk.

"Why're you mad?" he asks, forcing the shake out of his voice, because, truthfully, nothing is more terrifying than an angry Kiki. 

"Why'm I—" she splutters, going red in the cheeks. "Why'm I  _mad_?! Honestly, Tombo, why do you think? Because I wasn't saying that having lunch with that meathead was unbelievable like wonderful, but unbelievable like ridiculous! Didn't you know that? You had to go running off like I'd just snapped your heart in half and I swear Hana and Tori and Yuko wouldn't leave me  _alone_  for the rest of the day; and I told Osono and she called me a heartbreaker and Ursula said it was rude to play with boys' feelings like they were toys and Jiji told me I was awful, and now apparently you're in love with me! That's what Tori said! And Jiji said it was obvious and Tombo, why didn't you _tell me_ , you clown!?" 

Tombo sort of gapes at her, flounders and blushes and stammers out nonsense. The air around Kiki is thick with frustrated sparks of magic and it makes his skin shiver. Kiki breathes in and out a bit more quickly than is average, clearly winded from her verbal battering ram, her pale cheeks pink. 

"I…" he flummoxes, his heart fluttering against his ribcage the way the propellor had, pulling everything inside of him skyward. "Tori told you?" 

"That's all you get from that?" Kiki exclaims, straightening. "Good grief, how do you function?" 

"Planetary imbalance?" he suggests weakly, but she is having no more of his evasiveness.

"Tombo, do you like me?" she demands, her arms akimbo. 

Tombo laughs nervously and it cracks. 

"Sure I do; you're swell!" he answers. "Why would I talk to you if I didn't like you?" 

"Tombo, if you keep avoiding the question, I'm going to turn you into a hedgehog, and I can do it!" All right, hedgehog, not frog. "And then maybe I  _will_  have lunch with that clod from homeroom."

That certainly gets him. The words are scrambling forth before he can even think to filter.

"Kiki, of course I like you! I like you so much I could burst! You're the most amazing girl, you really are, and the only thing I don't like about you is that you can't see that for yourself." He gesticulates wildly, freckled arms practically flailing. "You made me realize that flying wasn't just some dumb kid's dream and you made my summer incredible and you saved my life, for Pete's sake! I've liked you ever since I first saw you! I risked arrest and criminal prosecution for you, need I remind you, and then I invited you to my party and when you didn't come it was the pits but then you brought that package and we took the bike out and—and your bow is really cute," he finishes off in a pitiful mumble, bowing his furiously blushing head. 

"Gosh, I  _am_  a clown," he mutters, mussing his sandy hair with a shaking hand. "I didn't mean to walk off but I guess I just – I didn't think you'd go for a guy like me to start with, I mean, I wear glasses and my idea of a good time is oiling a bunch of gears, but it didn't hit me unti—"

And then, as she is wont to do, Kiki astounds him. She swoops forward and meets his lips with hers dead-on, light and precise and quite honest. Her bangs tickle his forehead. Her eyes are closed. His cheeks flare up with warmth and his eyes go protuberant behind his already comically magnifying glasses, but Kiki only draws away when she sees fit, when the unadorned taste of the éclair she'd just eaten rests on the surface of his lips. 

"Yeah, you _are_  a clown," she agrees, her smile demure and hopeful. "But you're mine, so I guess it's not all bad." 

"Jeez," he breathes out. "Remind me to be an idiot more often." 

She embraces him, then, her arms flinging around his shoulders and pulling him close to her. It says all the things she hasn't yet –  _thank you for being here for me, thank you for making me feel welcome, thank you for being kind, for being there, for being you, for understanding, for chasing the sky, for batting out the loneliness._

He reciprocates as though it's an old routine, squeezing her at the waist, and she holds him tightly, her smile pressing into the fabric of his shirt. 

"Would you like to go on a broom ride with me?" she asks quietly. He isn't even sure he'd heard it.

Jiji lets out an indignant yowl, leaping to his paws. 

Tombo draws back, puzzled but smiling. 

"Really?" he replies in bewilderment. Kiki's broom is sacred and sole and she's never even let him touch it, though he's dreamed of zooming around on it many times before. 

She nods. Lovely, chortling, fiery Kiki nods, and Tombo can see the sky. 

 

* * *

 

They have the same hunger for flight within them, blue and fizzy and impossible to bridle. It is in Kiki's blood, and it is in Tombo's soul. 

He watches the world fall away beneath them and breathes the clouds in beside her.

 


End file.
